Two Moons through an onion skin, gulls ride out approaching storm; I embrace the corner of my bedroom. A brief inward look tumbles from the bed, my heart rises. Ice and sun, reversible stars, the driving pistons
behind this bleeding vision
My thoughts a scarf tail whipping wind descend into darkness
I search for landmarks in unfamiliar territory clinging to the floor until a cold draft finds me.
Voiceless, hunched, in the corner, I'm shaken by seismic tremors. ' Dark as a crow, I wait in despair for something to enter, a pattern of deeply etched lines, stars that won't burn out, a shadowy presence of something fearful.
Flames crack like small bones, springs fly from clockwork mechanisms, all the disparate forces spin in ghostly dance.